


Sillily, Stupidly

by dhwty_writes



Series: Geraskier One-Shots [21]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Depressed Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Light Angst, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhwty_writes/pseuds/dhwty_writes
Summary: Jaskier, not wanting Geralt to see him cry, ran off into the woods. The witcher finds him regardless and offers him to help.Sillily, stupidly, Jaskier accepts.Sillily, stupidly, it helps.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier One-Shots [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931821
Comments: 17
Kudos: 140





	Sillily, Stupidly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllieStormfound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/gifts).



> elliestormfound asked: yay for last exam of the term! here is a little prompt, if you like: 'I think you need a hug' for geraskier :)
> 
> Thank you my dear, for this lovely prompt! I intended something much fluffier here, but this, uhhhhh, got a little out of hand. (Insert surprised reaction here) I know, I know, who would have thought that a story I’m writing--to one of your amazing prompts, of all things!--could get out of hand?! Crazy, right?
> 
> Anyways, this is a little sad (maybe even a big sad), I hope you like it regardless!
> 
> Warnings: It’s not explicitly stated, but Jaskier is depressed in this one. Approach with caution, if that’s something you’re sensitive about, and take care of yourselves!

"Jaskier?" a worried voice asked behind him, accompanied by the familiar pattern of footfalls he had grown so accustomed to over the past years.

Jaskier's heartrate sped up immediately. 'Shit,' he cursed silently, furiously wiping at the tears streaking across his cheeks while he desperately tried to regain some kind of composure. "Over here!" he replied, trying—and failing—to steady his voice.

"What are you doing over here?" Geralt asked curiously, approaching rapidly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said much more confidently than he felt. "Sure." He snuffled to keep the snot from dripping from his nose. He was an ugly crier and well aware of it, but that was nothing Geralt needed to know.

The witcher stopped only a few paces behind him. Jaskier could practically feel the glare boring into his back as he was assessing the situation. "No," he proclaimed after a few moments of deliberation, his observation astute as ever. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he protested stubbornly. Stupid him for stupidly crying and stupidly making Geralt worry about him. The witcher had bigger concerns, as he loved to tell him, than the trivial troubles of a troubadour.

"Liar," Geralt accused him.

Well. He wasn't wrong. "Hm," he replied.

"Jaskier," the witcher tried again. Was that alarm he detected in his voice? Surely not. "Can you turn around to me? Please?"

" _Please?_ " he mouthed silently. He wasn't sure if Geralt had ever told him please before. It was a shocking turn of events, so shocking in fact, that he was taken off guard for a moment. When he found his bearings again, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper: "I'd rather not."

"Alright," he huffed. "Alright." A beat of silence followed. "Jaskier," Geralt said again, his voice closer than before.

"Yeah."

"Can I help you?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Can I try?"

He shrugged again.

Geralt took a deep breath. This time Jaskier could hear when he stepped closer. "Do you want me to leave?"

'Yes,' was his first instinctual answer. No-one should see him like this, floating in numbness; especially not Geralt. To shrug, was his second. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Stay, go, help, none of that mattered. But there was something inside him, nagging him; something that made him whisper the truth despite everything: "No. I don't think so."

"Thank you." It was a silly thing to respond. A _stupid_ thing, really. But Geralt said it so— so earnestly, somehow, that it wasn't silly, wasn't stupid. It did manage to make him cry again, though, his shoulders shaking nigh unnoticeably, silent sobs rattling through his body, choking him.

"Want to know what I think?" Geralt said calmly, softly. He knew that tone. It was the same as if he was speaking to Roach when she was frightened.

'I'm not stupid horse,' he wanted to say, 'I'm a stupid human who's holding you up because of nothing at all.' But something kept the words from escaping his mouth. Something forced him to wait for whatever Geralt would say next.

What he said next, though, was an impossibility nothing on earth could have prepared him for. "I think you need a hug," Geralt of Rivia said.

It was such a surprise, in fact, that he couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

"What?" Geralt asked, evidently amused by his reaction.

For Jaskier, this wasn't amusing at all. It was downright cruel, teasing him like that; proposing something he would never follow through with. "You, Geralt of Rivia," he explained hoarsely, "do not _do_ hugs. You are the most unhuggable person on earth, the forbidden, the impermissible, if you will."

"Hmm."

'Finally,' Jaskier thought, 'a Geralt-answer.' This conversation almost began feeling normal.

Almost, for then he said: "Can I touch you?"

"Why?" he asked warily.

"To prove you wrong."

He shrugged. If Geralt wanted to humour him, who was he to tell him no?

The first touch was a shock. Five fingertips brushing over his shoulder, sending lightning bolts from the crown of his hair down to his toes.

The second touch was a conundrum. A solid hand on the juncture of his neck and his shoulders, making him wonder what on earth the witcher was playing at.

The third touch was a pillar. A muscled arm snaking around his waist when his own knees turned to mush and threatened to collapse.

The fourth touch was an anchor. A jaw hooking over his shoulder, gently coming to a rest, his body tensing up while all he could hear were gentle, even breaths.

The final touch was a relief. A familiar body moulding itself to his back as if it belonged there; as if it had always been there.

It was so familiar, so normal, so necessary that Jaskier couldn't keep it together anymore. Beneath silly caresses and stupid "There, there, there"s he felt himself crumble to dust. His carefully erected walls ruined with nothing but a gentle touch, the tears flowed freely down his face, his knees gave out under him, he was only held upright by Geralt's arms.

Gently, the witcher lowered them to the ground; kneeling at first, then lying down. "It's alright," he kept repeating. "It's alright, I'm here, I've got you." As if that would make it true. Silly. Stupid.

"It's not," he protested helplessly, because it wasn't. "It's not, I can't, I can't, Geralt."

"I know," he said as if he wasn't talking nonsense. "I know, I've got you. You're not alone."

"It _hurts,_ " he wailed.

"Show me where." Slowly, carefully still, as if any touch too bold could make him flee, he snaked his hand under Jaskier's, intertwining their fingers. "I'm here with you."

"There," he sobbed weakly, stupidly, as he pressed his hand over the left side of his chest. "It hurts. Make it stop. Make it go numb again."

"Oh, Jaskier," Geralt murmured, "you don't mean that. Truly, you don't want that."

He shrugged.

Geralt held on tighter. "It's alright," he said again. "I'm here. I've got you."

* * *

Jaskier wasn't quite sure when he regained his senses. All he knew that it was dark now and that it hadn't been when he had fled the camp. And that Geralt was still curled around him, holding on tight.

"Geralt?" he whispered, unsure if the witcher was sleeping or not. He wouldn't want to wake him, if he was. In fact, he would want him to be asleep, so that he could vanish as quickly as possible, for a few weeks maybe, so that this embarrassing episode could be conscribed to oblivion.

But Destiny was a cruel mistress, who held no mercy for him that day. "Hmm," Geralt replied, slowly stirring behind him. "Back with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. How're you feeling? Good?"

"Yeah!" he answered, trying to mask his insecurity with his usual chipper attitude. "Yeah."

Geralt pressed his nose against his neck and inhaled deeply. It was... oddly comforting. "Liar," he concluded after a moment.

Jaskier sagged forward again. "No," he confessed quietly, "I'm not. And— I'm sorry, Geralt, I don't think I'll be feeling good for quite some time. It's— It's—" Truthfully, he didn't know what it was.

But as usual this evening, Geralt had the answer: "It's alright," he promised, squeezing him a little tighter. Somehow, he believed him. "Just don't go wandering off again. You—" He hesitated, then leaned closer as if confessing a secret. Maybe it was. "You scared me."

"I thought witchers couldn't be scared."

"No, we get scared plenty. I— Hmm."

He waited patiently. After a while he had learned to discern the subtle differences between all of Geralt's 'Hmm's. There were the usuals, 'Yes'-Hmms, 'No'-Hmms, and 'Fuck off'-Hmms, the 'Roach'-Hmm's and the 'Jaskier'-Hmm's, which mostly either were 'I'm silently laughing at you'-Hmm's or 'I appreciate what you're saying, but am too emotionally constipated to tell you so, so I'm rather pretending to be annoyed'-Hmm's. And then there were rarer Hmm's such as this one, which was indisputably an 'I want to tell you something that is important to me, but don't know with which words yet; I need some time'-Hmm.

So, he waited. Eventually, Geralt would speak again. He always did and today was no exception. "I'm not scared of monsters," he said finally, "or men. I can hit those with my sword. I can protect you from them, because you're too stupid to stay put when I tell you to. But this—" He pressed his hand over Jaskier's heart again. "—I don't know how to fight this. I don't know how to save you from this. I might lose you to this." His voice was trembling. Actually trembling, too quiet for anyone to hear, but Jaskier could feel the tremors from behind him. "So, yeah. This scares me."

His voice was shaking much more clearly when he replied: "I don't know either. But," he heaved a breath, "what you did was a good start, I think." After a moment of silence, he added: "I'm sorry."

Geralt growled and flicked his ear. Somehow, it was a comforting sound. "Stop it," he commanded.

"Stop what?"

"You keep apologising."

"I'm sorry."

"There!" He flicked his ear again. "You did it again."

"I'm so— Ouch! Don't you pinch me, Geralt of Rivia, I don't mean to keep doing it!"

"Just shut up, then."

"Alright." He breathed deeply in and out. "Alright."

Jaskier managed all of three breaths before his foot started wiggling. Three more and he couldn't take it anymore: "I—"

"Don't you dare," Geralt interrupted him.

"I wasn't about to say it!" he protested. "Truly, I wasn't! I just— I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to."

He snorted. "What kind of friend would I be if I left you to be miserable on your own? It's nothing, Jaskier." He buried his face in his neck again and held on tighter. "I mean it. I'm here. I've got you."

"Thank you," he said again.

"Bed?" Geralt prompted after a while.

"I— Hmm."

He poked him in the ribs. "That's my line."

Jaskier snorted a laugh and scrunched up his nose. "It's stupid."

"As stupid as when you got pissed, chased by a gaggle of geese, and I had to rescue you from the outhouse you had fled into?"

"Hmm." He deliberated the answer. "Alright, maybe not quite as stupid. But it's a close call."

"Then tell me."

He gnawed on his lower lip. The more he thought about it, the stupider it got. Luckily, he'd never had to _think_ to say something stupid. "I don't want you to let go of me," he blurted before he could change his mind.

"Hmm," Geralt hummed and with his lips pressed against Jaskier's neck, he could feel the smile spreading on his face.

It was a new 'Hmm', though, one he didn't quite know what to do with it. Very close to the 'You're a fool, Jaskier' or the 'I'm thinking of Kaer Morhen'-Hmm, but with something else; something that had previously been reserved for the 'Roach'-Hmm's and 'Yennefer'-Hmm's only.

Before he could come to a conclusion as to what that particular 'Hmm' meant, Geralt spoke up again: "Think you can let me let you go long enough for us to get back to the camp?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

"Alright," he mumbled and pressed his lips to the back of his neck; short enough that it could have been an accident, long enough that it could have been something else entirely. "I've got you," he promised again. "We'll figure this out. We'll make you good again, yeah? Together."

"Together," he echoed. Somehow, sillily, stupidly, Jaskier believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, leave a comment and a kudo or come over to chat with me on [tumblr](https://dhwty-writes.tumblr.com/) if you liked it! Also, feel free to come and send me a few prompts in honor of me completing my exams.


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